


I wanna hold 'em till they burn right through my hands

by NotSykes (TotallyHuman), TotallyHuman



Category: Devil May Cry, DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feelings, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29630799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyHuman/pseuds/NotSykes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyHuman/pseuds/TotallyHuman
Summary: A continuation of my abandoned fic "all the steps to follow right behind". Details inside."Amazing,” the man said almost breathlessly, “Dante, it really is you.” Silence spanned between them in Dante’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the guy’s statements unless they actually meant something. Hypocritical or not, until then: he didn’t care. Guys like this one were used to being revered on sight. Dante glanced around the cave and back, face flat and bored to reflect his impression of the situation. “You don’t remember me?” It was a real question.“No,” Dante answered lamely as he noticed the mask behind him to his right. The iconic mask from the Order videos on the news.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (DmC)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. the world has got its plans

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written consistently in years. I'm working up the motivation and looking through old WIPs when I found this, completely and utterly forgotten. A sequel to my most deviant and popular fics. I don't know if anyone will really find this, especially since i cut ties with the old one. But now I'm thinking, who cares. So i edited this, added juuuust a couple new details and voila. I hope it's okay, if it's not then oh well.
> 
> not to be narcissistic, but here's [my playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tltIGMb9i7Hc5MsOxS0nV?si=A-E5eJuCT3CYNt1FHIkX4Q&utm_source=copy-link) i listen to to feel about the boys :)

Any expectations Dante could have had for this “Order” shit Kat seemed to be invested in were… low. Non-existent. What kind of idea was it? ‘Defeating the demons.’ Ridiculous. Impossible. The demons were an infestation. An infection that had been festering in Limbo since it was seeded, probably. Since the angels stopped giving a shit about fighting them, if they ever did fight them. If they ever existed in the first place. Demons were in the roots of the city, there was no gutting precise enough to cut them away without pulling up Limbo itself. 

So no, Dante wouldn’t bet his money on it; not to say Dante had money in the first place. 

The lack of profitable gambling didn’t stop Dante from following Kat’s lead. No matter the legitimacy of her group, a debt is a debt and this one had a currency Dante could afford: a moment of his time. God knows Dante had time in excess. Plus, there was the nagging factor that she was unique, as a person. Nothing had ever been comparable to Dante, except demons. To find someone relatable was - well, Dante wasn’t too good at expressing the value of company and that sappy shit, but he grasped that that meant something. Emphasized by the fact that Dante could actually stand her presence. Rarely did Dante bother paying attention to what anyone had to say, but Kat was obviously more genuine than any lobotomized bar crowd.

They trekked through the dingy halls of what could easily have been mistaken for some skater-pothead hangout. The building was unassuming and as vandalized as the rest of Limbo. It surely didn’t read like any sort of ‘order’ may be tucked away inside. But mostly Dante stared at Kat’s ass and listened to her explain more about their regime while he offered only unhelpful doubt. 

Of course, that slowed considerably as they pushed into a new room. It was more vast than the hallways and rooms Dante had glimpsed - more like this one was in the sewers. Were they in the sewers? Dammit, Dante had been serious about trying not to wind up in the them anymore. 

But the space was surprisingly well-kempt. The ceiling was vaulted, pillars along the walls. The whole space had been rigged with equipment and tech. Black computer screens panelled the wall in the center like their own black hole of information. Dante didn’t want to get too close. It was goddamn dark too and no one seemed to think turning on the light was a good idea. Not Kat and not the guy standing several yards away, drenched in shadows as opaque as black paint, only the light cast along his side and shoulders exposed him at all, showing the cane he held clasped in his hands. This was the person Dante was important to? Dante stepped into the faint, dull sunlight that slanted through a window high up on the far wall, motes of dust dancing around him like fairies.

From the austere posture to the cane in his hands, Dante could already tell that the guy was going to be a pain in the ass. Anyone who headed up an organization, let alone one called ‘The Order,’ and dressed that stiff was at least half a tool. That’s what Dante’s first impression was, anyway. 

From where he stood across from the other male, a prickling sensation thickened in the air around Dante. It felt like magick oozed from some reserve deep beneath Dante’s feet and sunk into his circulation system - 

Scratch that. Not from beneath him, from him. The man. It formed a straight line between him and the shadowed man. The familiarity of the sensation was uncanny. Reminiscent of… 

No, that’d be fucked up. Right? 

“Amazing,” the man said almost breathlessly, “Dante, it really is you.” Silence spanned between them in Dante’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the guy’s statements unless they actually meant something. Hypocritical or not, until then: he didn’t care. Guys like this one were used to being revered on sight. Dante glanced around the cave and back, face flat and bored to reflect his impression of the situation. “You don’t remember me?” It was a real question. 

“No,” Dante answered lamely as he noticed the mask behind him to his right. The iconic mask from the Order videos on the news. 

The two of them summarized their angsty childhood stories, not like friends reminiscing but like the missed connections tab of Craigslist. The man’s conversation isn’t long-winded, but it’s still pointless. Clipped sentences and vague statements that were a drag on Dante’s attention span. He wanted the guy to say what he had to say and say it straight. 

Then the guy finally did say something interesting. Something damning. 

He told Dante what he already knew: that he isn’t human. Instinct made Dante glance to Kat, thinking she had told her ‘boss’ about him, but knew she didn’t when he caught the look on her face. Suddenly Dante was more ready to listen, if it concerned his… whatever he is. But what ruined everything - Dante’s sudden readiness to cooperate with the shadowed man’s little show and hear him out - was when Kat’s employer stepped out of the shadows -

Dante scoffed, nearly spit at his feet. “What the fuck is this?” Dante said scathingly as he came face to face with Vergil, who closed the gap between them in a few quick strides. 

All at once Dante remembered full force the time he had spent with the stranger from the bar, Vergil. It had been a test of boundaries, of how far Dante had been willing to go out of his usual forté for the promise of that weird, enticing energy that Dante felt roping him into the stranger that night. Turned out pretty far. Dante was used to women. Girls that were pretty and not too inebriated - or at least equally as inebriated as himself - and eager for him, used to bringing them back to his trailer so that he could go to sleep afterward and watch their asses when they slipped out with a kink in their step early morning, used to topping. And then Vergil: suave, slightly creepy in the way he’d stared at Dante, and fucking electrifying had approached him. Flipped all Dante’s shit on the ground so that he had to escape a fucking luxury building in the dead of night and use the experience as jack-off fodder for the next two weeks. Dante hadn’t even used his healing to soothe the way his ass had felt after. 

Yeah. It was Vergil, from his feet to the stupid hat on his head. 

And what-the-fuck now? Was that night a ploy to soften Dante up before -

Dante still didn’t know why he was there.

“All war is fought with deception - “ intoned Vergil.

Dante’s face contorted at the irony and interjected, “It’s been awhile since I’ve been this fuckin’ pissed, y’know - ”

There’s no waver as Vergil picked up where he left off, eyeing Dante exactly like he had that night. It sent a shiver down Dante’s spine that aggravated himself, “ - and you have been deceived. Your past has been hidden from you for a reason.”

“Rewind a bit - who are you again?” Dante hurled in the face of what they both know, met Vergil's piercing glance, and then vengefully, “Is your name actually Vergil or was that just some dead name for the night?”

Kat shifted awkwardly in the shadows away from them, probably wondering if and how they knew each other.

“My name is Vergil,” he assured in a lower but firm tone, as if trying to burn the fact into Dante’s mind. As if it could survive the acidic indignation apparent on Dante’s face. It was as though Vergil could sense everything Dante wanted to hear and decided to say everything but. He detailed The Order with flamboyant gestures and a projected voice that sounded more fake than Vergil likely thought. Dante made a point to nitpick Vergil’s statements with an overtly derogatory bias and glared daggers into him. Right up until the real reason Dante’s there was finally spoken out loud. 

“So that’s what this is about. You want me to fight the demons, help you save the world,” Dante replied flatly with a shake of his head. Apparently, one measly fuck isn’t enough to get an accurate idea of what motivates a person. The disinterest Dante felt must have emanated noticeably from him. Vergil perceived that, approached, and stopped a foot from Dante. 

Last time they were this close, they kissed.

“What else were you planning on doing with your life?” 

People spoke pretty blunt to Dante, in his experience. Usually because Dante looked like burn-out trailer trash and they - ‘they’ varied from businessmen to actual trailer trash - saw themselves as somehow superior. Which, whatever, Dante had other shit to care about rather than someone’s petty fucking ego. Namely his own. But Vergil’s statement, it was direct in a way like no one else had ever quite been. It’s like the edge of a blade, so finely sharpened that it slipped into Dante’s body rather than razed or sheared. There was a distinct lack of violence in its substance - which was enough to set Dante on edge in itself - and was cold and merciless as it cut smoothly into his core. 

Vergil cocked his head to the side and nodded to Kat. She sized Dante and Vergil’s circumstances up and mumbled about sigil books or something. Her footsteps scuffed lightly against the floor. The door on the opposite side of the room shut duly and the two of them were alone.

Resentment turned over in his stomach, motivating Dante to speak first, “So why’d you do it? To use me? Think I’d play into your little game easier because we had a one-off?”

Vergil tilted his chin up because yeah, of course he does, and said, “I didn’t use you, Dante.” Annoyingly, there was no denying the intensity that was strung between them. Meeting Vergil’s similarly blue eyes only emphasized it, “I took you to bed because you are… interesting, and enticing,” Dante could make out the click of Vergil’s tongue with each adjective and inhaled slowly, “and important. I’m attracted to you so I figured - hey, if you’re into it, why not?” The slightest smile curved onto Vergil’s lips and Dante… Dante wasn’t as annoyed, he guessed. “And wow, you delivered,” Vergil finished in a sly, quick tone. The innuendo was plain, the challenge moreso. 

Dante felt chagrin scratch in his mind at the words, but declared revenge in its place. The correlating hitch in his arousal was neither modest nor tentative and seeped into the other emotions like a diluent. 

Both Vergil and Dante broke the bog of tension, each moved in like the ends of cudgels that clear the air. Maybe Vergil was more of a rapier, in that respect. ‘Refined.’ What a prick. 

Their kiss had none of the intimate build-up of that night, it was fraught with a rushed determination. Where desperation and lust had been at the core, impulsivity and haught revenge coursed and burned at every one of Dante’s synapses. There would be no meticulous wringing of need and sensation and Dante was grateful for that because he wasn’t looking for a fantasy fuck, he was looking to make that asshole, Vergil, have a little humility. And, okay, maybe get half a lay in the process.

Vergil tried to gingerly lead Dante back to the tables strewn with boxes and devices and plans, as if Dante wouldn’t notice. With a snort, Dante shoved back at Vergil, not content to let the man move and arrange him as easily as he had all those weeks ago. There would be no pliant turning over from Dante, that had been a fluke. After all, Dante was a self-made demon slaughterhouse. A sleeping tiger when he wasn’t fighting said demons, but a tiger nonetheless and one that would not be leashed and collared. Not by Vergil’s seduction, regardless of what Vergil could say. Even if Vergil could convince him to help. 

Dante reared his head back and away from their kiss, teeth showing as he spoke up, “Don’t think that this is a thing.”

Vergil huffed a vague laugh and leaned in again, “Such a solivagant. Don’t worry.” The agreement was not transparent. Dante could sense a hidden tone of… something. Also pretentiousness. Lots. 

Instead of a retort, Dante hissed as Vergil pushed his hips into Dante’s, grinding their crotches together. Vergil’s mint-scented breath ghosted over Dante’s neck as he leaned down and suckled a patch of skin rose red beneath Dante’s jawline, simultaneously removing his hat and setting it aside.

The ministrations of Vergil’s lips against Dante’s neck were nice. He flinched and gave a light groan when he felt Vergil’s teeth graze against the teased sensitive skin next. Then Dante remembered what he really wanted. 

One hand dug into Vergil’s shoulder, making space between the two of them and then pushed hard enough to send him to his knees in front of Dante. There was a moment of surprise that flickered visibly over Vergil’s regal features. One eyebrow arched high and inquisitive as he looked up at Dante, Vergil's expression meticulously withheld a smile.

“My turn,” Dante said haughtily. Going beltless made it an easy chore for Dante to shove his pants down, Vergil’s hands on each thigh to tug the fabric. 

“Really?” Vergil huffed with an inkling of amusement as he came eye-level with Dante’s semi-hard erection.

Dante shrugged, “Commando's easy. “ Enough time had been wasted so Dante carded one hand into Vergil’s carefully styled and professional white hair, pulling his head closer. Vergil seemed aggravatingly unphased but Dante could get over it since Vergil complied and took the base of his cock in one hand. 

Several diligent strokes brought Dante to full hardness. The fabric of his gloves were silky rather than a drag on the soft skin of his cock as he ghosted warm breath over Dante, adding to the existing pool of heat that simmered low in Dante’s gut. 

Opening his mouth to bark some unnecessary command for commands sake, Dante was cut short when Vergil tipped his head in and licked a stripe along the side of his cock. The soft wetness was heavenly against Dante’s length and he twisted his hand into a fist in Vergil’s hair. The breath of Vergil’s resounding laugh made the drying spit on Dante’s cock go cold and sent a shiver prickling up his spine. 

“Don’t pull the hair, please. You’ve made a mess of it enough,” Vergil spoke with his lips against the side of his cock still so he could feel the words as well as hear them. Dante dug his teeth into his bottom lip with the ghost of a ‘fuck’ whisping off them. He tightened his grip in Vergil’s hair just enough to tease that he might pull anyways, but didn’t. Part of him knew well enough not to ruin the momentum.

That was the right move because the next second Vergil was twisting his hand around the base of Dante’s cock, the smooth turn of his gloves fabric against the skin making the most pleasurable friction Dante hadn’t imagined. Followed up by the sight of Dante’s cock vanishing into the moist warmth of Vergil’s mouth. Dante swore he could have gotten off right there. But despite the image so carefully preened, he wasn’t a teenager. 

Dante savored the moment with a low groan. Head tilted back, Dante canted his hips forward instinctively, semi-uncaring of Vergil’s position. They were playing a game of power here, after all. From his point of view, Dante was winning. Despite the way Vergil clawed his hand into Dante’s hips dangerously close to the border between playful and harmful. Scolding. Vergil pulled his head back and laved his tongue over the head of Dante’s cock like he was promising what more he could do. 

Fuck, did Dante want more. 

A heavy, shuddering breath wracked Dante’s chest like the epicenter of an earthquake. Like he was a continent, splitting apart. All at the whim of Vergil’s destructive, addictive mouth. Soft, flower petal lips. 

Shit, was Dante winning?

In their positions, it was now Vergil fully illuminated on his knees. Dante cast in darkness. He almost got caught up in the regal lines of Vergil’s face, so handsome. That is before Vergil suddenly slipped Dante’s cock back into the wet heat of his mouth, sucking even cock with grace as he hollowed his cheeks. The suction had Dante gasping aloud and bucking forward even as Vergil’s nose met the coarse hair surrounding his dick. He could feel himself twitch, his body following along to chase the promise of orgasm. They worked in tandem then. Vergil gagged on Dante’s length, unable to say anything about the hand now tightly gripping the hair atop Vergil’s head. Holding a firm pressure on the bobbing of Vergil’s head as if to say please -- please, don’t stop.

“Shit, Verg - I’m coming --” Hot iron twine unspools from deep in Dante’s gut as he held himself steady. The feeling of Vergil’s throat tensing and swallowing around him as he emptied himself was almost too much and entirely satisfying.


	2. you say i'm crazy

The experience in Limbo was… it was a revelation.

Seeing the ghost of Dante’s past be mirrored back at him in the skeletal scenery of Limbo and having his memories unlocked again: it felt fulfilling instead of overwhelming. Every frayed edge of Dante had a reason for being that way, reason more than having been randomly picked on by demons, more than simply being born inhuman with no knowledge of why he was the way he was. Even if it was completely fucked, for once Dante had all the pieces of himself back, a new and better understanding. 

In a way, he’d even gotten his mother back. If only remembering the honey sweet lilt of her voice wasn’t juxtaposed to Mundus ripping her heart out of her chest. But you win some, you lose some. One point that stuck, vivid and undeniable: was that Dante’s mother had been an angel. An angel. One of the good ones. Dante wasn’t just some abominable mishap or demon offspring. Well, he was halfly, but that was bearable. After all, if Dante’s dad could win an angel - that meant he had something redeemable about him too.

Speaking of abominable -

For some reason, Vergil being his brother was the last puzzle piece to fall into place. Not that Dante had a brother - a twin - but that it was Vergil, specifically. Only when Dante materialized out of Limbo over Kat’s sigil and came face-to-face with Vergil did it all rush to his head and become reality. Dante stood there dumbfounded, face unsettlingly cool, and muttered directly: “You’re my brother,” somewhere between an observation and a question. Though the real question was, ‘What the fuck?’

It’d been years since Dante had felt so stricken. The facts jumbled Dante’s thoughts as he played back their meeting, the way Vergil obviously knew - had known - the night they spent together three weeks prior to the hunter, and Kat, and The Order pleading for his service. Vergil wasn’t half as phased as Dante was as he said they were twins and showed Dante proof with the matching necklace from their mother. Their mother.

Fuck, they have the same mother. Dante barely listened to what Vergil had to say, it could be important later. Surprisingly, Dante didn’t immediately blow up with confrontation, not through physical or verbal means. Blanched, Dante only wanted exposition. Answers. Vergil agreed in kind, not looking a hair out of place. How could their - fuck - their blood relation not have him losing his mind? Why did Vergil take Dante home that night? The latter question kept repeating in Dante’s mind as he turned and slinked away to head back to the car in his own stewing, stomping gait. His mind weighed twenty times what it had before Limbo. 

At the hidden, urbanized park Vergil took him to explain more about, well, everything, Dante became comfortable. He let the nagging disgust at what transpired between them subside as Vergil spoke about their past and their mother. 

That’s where every problem faded away the most: when Dante thought about his mother. He hadn’t had that comfort before, only a blurred image and anxiety for the mystery that plagued it. 

Think about your mother, not the brother you accidentally fucked three weeks ago. Not that it was accidental for said brother, whom didn’t have a fucking word to speak about it as he discussed their familial ties. Seriously, what the hell? 

It’s after Dante came to closer terms at the park, when they walked abandoned halls and further into other - oddly dead - parts of the city at hours 1, 2… 3, Dante couldn’t tell how long he and Vergil had been out together. It felt like it could be forever. They’re nephilim. Important as hell, Dante got the message loud and clear after Vergil’s total explanation.

Finally, Dante stopped dead and snatched Vergil’s arm. His thoughts welled up like mud under a bad foundation following a flood. Not pretty and not easily fixed.

“Okay but fucking tell me why you - “ 

Vergil had a look as if he'd died and come back with exasperation for a topic Dante hadn’t even fully brought up yet. And if that’s the case Dante came close to telling Vergil something rotten and impulsive. 

Instead, Dante bared his teeth slightly as he locked eyes with Vergil, “Why you fucked me,” saying it aloud made Dante’s mouth go dry, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth, “when you knew we were… fuckin’- y’know - brothers.” This time it’s Dante who glanced away for a second, tempted to drop the subject entirely. He was surprised he could say the sentence and infuriated that it's true. It’d be so much easier to deal with. Forget about it like he’d forgotten so many things, and take up arms with vigor and virulence with his brother, see how their wits matched up, what it was like to have his sibling back and normal - 

Ha. ‘Normal.’ As if.

Certainly normal was a brother, who made Dante absolutely fucking weak with pleasure. Who whispered the most tantalizing and arousing words low in Dante’s ear while buried to the base of his cock in Dante’s body. God, that -

No. No, no, no, Dante’s mind burned up as realized the tangent he’d taken and screwed his expression at Vergil.

“Answer me, dammit.”

“You’re not simple-minded, Dante, we both know tha - “ Vergil was cut-off midway by the yawning alarm of a looker down the hall. In an instant reality started to twist around Dante until he was standing in a grim inversion of his already morbid world. Scapegoat found. Vergil was a phantom by his side, promising Kat would get him out. Which, at least Dante would be pleased and unfettered by Kat’s company, which he enjoyed. Baggage and all for a family of six between the two of them.

Dante wasn’t too aggravated by the change of scenery. Limbo was an unpleasant nightmare that Dante wouldn’t ever voluntarily enter, at least not for fun, but damn if it wasn’t a good distraction. There wasn’t anything Dante’s better at than fighting the monsters. Which is also probably part of why it might be… he doesn’t know... good joining The Order. If he can get past Vergil - but Dante didn’t excel in coping mechanisms. His go-to methods have a history of leaving him staring into the bottom of a bottle or fucking a few strippers at a time until he can’t think straight. The last being only another thing that’s been hard since his night with Vergil.

The chaos was welcome. The crushing, crunching, clashing sounds of battle were therapeutic as Dante inevitably won. No hollow, feral creatures were ever skillful enough to overcome Dante’s superior ability. Or maybe it was the sheer brutality behind Dante, made stronger and, somehow, more angry by having his past unveiled. No, it was good. But he needed to work it out… violence was always the best for that. Psychology definitely had to back that up, huh?

Eventually, Dante had demoed all that was possible in the little sect of Limbo he had been rudely dragged into. As much as Dante enjoyed Kat’s presence, even her rescue and "exercising his demons" wasn’t enough to quell the sinch in his stomach at returning to Vergil and heading to The Order's base.

Their ride home was tensely quiet. Neither Dante nor Vergil attempted to address the elephant-sized issue between them and Dante only snapped his teeth the first instant Vergil tried to speak and said, ”Can I get a night to breathe first? Promise I won’t request room service or the continental breakfast if it means you’ll give me a break.”

Vergil had given Dante a key to a room in the bunkers a bit deeper in the base. Apparently, lots of people had given up their entire lives to The Order, which meant they had nowhere to go. So, Vergil made sure The Order provided that. 

Generous. If you liked sewers.

Dante was ready to saunter off and further avoid Vergil, even as his brother called out, “It’s supremely good to have met you again, Dante.”

Little did Vergil know, sentimentality was one way to make Dante fuck off even faster.

The room almost reminded Dante of the one he’d been incarcerated in when he was younger. Only if it had been through a last-minute conversion from torture chamber to bunker. It seemed roughly the same square feet as Dante’s old trailer, only square rather than rectangular. Conservative fluorescent lights in the junction of the ceiling walls flickered on dimly as Dante entered, a quaint twin bed was pushed vertically against the wall in the middle of the room, a dresser sat to the left of the bed and a desk was settled to the right of it with a laptop set up on it. Technology could suck Dante’s dick, for all the thought he gave it. And despite having passed a communal shower room on the way, the room had its own functioning bathroom attached.

A shower sounded pretty good. 

Dante could appreciate the room, actually. Even if the air was stale and the walls emanated oppression. Better than that, Dante could find the stash of beer in the bottom drawer of said dresser.

Alcohol was exactly what Dante needed. At least with his cognitive functions slurred

“C’est la fuckin’ vie,” Dante grunted blandly into the air as he surveyed around him, “or something like that.” He strode towards the bathroom, hands tugging back the lapels of his jacket.

Regardless of whether heaven was real and made up half of Dante’s DNA, Dante doubted the idea of God. That said, he could understand why ‘cleanliness is the closest thing to God’ was ever a thing. Though most people seem to have their hygiene grossly on the backburner, such as himself. But he had the excuse of living in a shit, broken down trailer - no working shower.

God, why did he ever miss that thing again?

The lukewarm water wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the scalding hot showers Dante usually subjected himself to when he had the opportunity. Not that it wasn’t welcome. It cascaded over Dante’s body as he leaned his head back and let the water wash down over his chest and catch in rivulets that ran down his back. 

Moments like that were so easy to lose himself in. Dante’s eyes fluttered shut as he let the feel of the water work into his muscle, felt the tension in his muscles begin to uncoil. 

There was a running dichotomy in Dante, each half stitched hazardously close within him. One was the careless, hedonistic mindset Dante could be the poster child for. Whether the personality is completely natural or developed as a coping mechanism for the grim reality he’s been faced with since childhood was debatable. The idea of either not being mutually exclusive mattered even less than the actual fact. The second was the undeniable tensity that bristled constantly beneath the surface of his skin, ready to move reflexively at any given second. Ready to fight ruthlessly to survive from one moment to the next. Fueled by hatred borne from years of imprisonment and pain. Both sides are accompanied by nasty habits to ensure Dante’s unhealthy lifestyle. And if there was any more depth to those two polar points of Dante’s being, he didn’t try to analyze it. Psychiatrists were fuckin’ demons like the rest of ‘em, when they weren’t plain stupid.

Needless to say, Dante subconsciously tended to lock in a lot of stress. The kind he felt ebbing away under the assuaging water. 

It was so easy to lose himself in.

It was easy for Dante’s thoughts to wander. Only to the simple pleasures, like usual. Dante tried to avoid any deep meditation on his existence. He didn’t want a repeat of the episode that led him to mutilating his own chest to find his heart. 

So, simple pleasures: on a normal night it would be the last couple girls he picked up. The focus would be on how soft and supple and slutty they were. The burn of alcohol in his throat, disgusting and satisfying, the crack and crunch of every demon he slaughtered.

Tonight it was a needy, aggressive kiss, an arm around his waist, him on his back and a warm bulk between his legs, lighting up his senses as it ground against him - deeper - a masculine voice above him - wait -

“Fuck!” Dante huffed, slamming one fist against the tile wall and leaning back to let the water hit him face first. 

Okay, so that one had been about Vergil. Who was Dante kidding, he couldn’t not think about Vergil. Especially not after the blow job, after -

He sighed and shook his head, jerking the shower knob to the side and stepping out, dripping wet, onto the bathroom floor. A towel was barely secured around Dante’s waist when he noticed Vergil in the doorway.


	3. im tired of confessing

"Huh, I really would'a figured you were better at boundaries." Irritation and relief coated Dante's tongue sour like lemon juice. Meanwhile, Vergil looked relaxed: surprisingly broad shoulders slumped softly in a maroon sweater, paired with a snug pair of sweatpants that Dante definitely didn't eye down --his gaze snapped back up to Vergil's. a sense of smugness wafted off of him.

How many times had Dante been called a smug little punk? He stepped away from Vergil and swallowed hard. There was no window to distract his gaze from Vergil, no decor. Nothing but the piercing blue ice of his irises.

"And what do you mean by that?"

The bastard wasn't going to make Dante say it. "Tch, you're a real prick, y'know. Guess you do share something in common with the rich after all." If the thin smile on Vergil's lips got any wider, Dante swore to himself he'd wipe it off with his fist.

Vergil's smile drops into a neutral expression. The shift made Dante pause. Emotions shifted so graceful and firm on Vergil's face even second to second...

The door clicks shut. Even that sounded as well-mannered as the bastard. "I thought you wanted to know about that night. Or did I get mixed signals?"

Dante shifted his weight from foot to foot. Surprise and - for the first time in a long time - fear bubbled up in his lungs. "Let me put on clothes, christ." He whirled around and found the suitcase of extra clothes from Kat, terrified of the feelings hemorrhaging into places they shouldn't be. And Dante's grateful just to get away from those eyes as he found a pair of black basketball shorts. It felt like they could see right through his skin and bones. Into the recess of Dante's chest and the shame he's trying so hard to hide.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Vergil doesn't turn away in Dante's peripheral as he drops his towel to pull on the shorts. Soon as he had them on Dante dropped onto the bed. Would that seem like an invitation to Vergil? He sat up immediately, rubbing his palms over his face and messy hair before staring straight ahead into the bathroom. "Talk then."

Not even a second of hesitation passed as Vergil spoke up. "You must have spent so long feeling alone, Dante." Slow and steady steps carried Vergil closer to the bed. "Never connected with anyone, never loved any of the humans, never loved by them." Confusion and indignation whipped into a frenzy behind Dante's eyes as Veril espoused the truths Dante didn't need thrust in his face. So much so he turned fully to Vergil, his shoulders squared and hands balled up against either thigh. But before he could say anything, Vergil continued. "See, Dante, I _did_ feel the love of humans. Platonic, romantic, familial. It was all okay. Smaller in that human way. One thing is certain: none of them match the love I have for you."

 _Love_ hit Dante with a flinch as it left Vergil's mouth. It knitted guilt into his expression. All this time Dante's had a twin and… it's fucked up.

"I've missed you for my entire life. To be the only pair of a celestial life form, linked in creation, and then _ripped_ apart -" Vergil's shadow towered over Dante. Impassioned, dark, and comforting in a way Dante ignored. "How could I not want you…?" His hand drifted forward, fingers grazing Dante's cheek before Dante turned away.

"You can't seriously believe that. Vergil, we have the… the same mother." She left his tongue intimate as a prayer. The rest of the sentence bathed in rotten hue, a grimace on Dante's lips.

Vergil spoke with such confidence it flipped Dante's brain. Rationalizing this, that -- and Vergil speaking as if it was _simple_. Easy.

"Angels and demons are all children of god, are they not? It did not stop mother and father from love." Religion was never Dante's strong suit. It burns because he does not know. Vergil's hand dipped down, under Dante's chin to tilt his head back. The oceans in Dante's eyes seemed to connect behind them. Swirling deep and endless in Dante's skull. His thoughts obscured in the dark depths and guarded by much more than sharks "I only wish you wouldn't torture yourself anymore, Dante. You needn't question yourself when you've got a good heart. When you are going to save humanity."

Where did Vergil get his smile? No way Dante shared it. The enthralling, concentrated ambition and respect it seemed to command. Never had Dante really admired someone - felt in awe of them or their presence but now?

"I took you to bed, Dante. I apologize for a lie of omission." Whatever that means. The edge of Dante's mouth twitches as he fails to recognize the word.

"You're very red."

Shit! Dante bolted up from the bed, toward the bathroom sink. "Don't do that! And do _not_ assume what I'm thinking, you pompous ass." He complained fiercely as cold sink water jetted out of the faucet with a squeal. 

"Well, that's one way to tell on yourself for thinking about us." Vergil replied, voice a low coo.

 _Us_. A flurry of images and sensation prickle up Dante's spine.

"You - _hrrgh_! It's just the shower." He huffed and bent over into the sink.

When Dante finished drying the cool droplets from his face, Vergil took his chance. "I know you can't stop thinking about it."

"Oh you know, huh?" A sardonic overtone coated Dante's voice. At this point, he was low on sleep, stressed to hell, and on the verge of a real headache. He faced Vergil once again, who now stood at the edge of the bed where Dante'd been.

"Of course. I can feel you, Dante. How do you think I understand how much pain you've been in?"

Dante screwed his eyes shut at the sudden surge of emotion in his chest. "Oh, shut up! I seriously remember everything, all the time!" A surprise tsunami to knock him forward before he realized vergil was only a foot away. One Dante's fists were balled tight at his side. The makings of a dangerous punch if he raised it. "Weeks of it, fuck. And now I know…"

Instead he met Vergil's eyes, turned, and paced a step away. Fraught and uncertain . "That… night…" Dante mumbled, body on edge as he thought about Vergil winding him up tight until he couldn't think, all sensation white hot in his stomach, being --

A pair of maroon-clad arms lock around Dante's waist and pull. Suddenly, Dante is sitting on the bed. In Vergil's lap.

"I truly wanted to tell you, Dante. The Order wasn't ready. I only found out where you were a week prior, and I brought you here as soon as I could but…" Warm breath ghosted over Dante's cheek as Vergil settled his chin on Dante's shoulder. "I just couldn't wait. It's the least self control I have _ever_ had, Dante." Stop saying my name like that. "I should have known it would be difficult for you." How did he not?

Gently, Vergil rested one hand as if to grip Dante's thigh. The other poised over Dante's tense abdomen. There was definite tone in Dante's stomach but no six pack that he remembered Vergil sporting. Fuck, no. His fist curled in the beds blanket until his knuckles went white. "Red again. Did you shower when I wasn't looking?" Dante swallowed thickly.

"This touch, Dante," the hand on his stomach felt up along his torso, until Vergil's palm settled over Dante's heart, "It's blessed. There are no laws of nature that apply to us like humans." Was that -- Vergil's forehead leaned against the back of Dante's neck. "Realize that you are not one of them, and we are neither angel nor devil. We are just us. Alone together."

Hell. Dante was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt even sleep last night drafting this one. im seriously falling head first back into writjng these two... i have problems. sex next chapter for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> clearly it's not finished, I intended for more pornography and realized intimacy but it's been so long -- im going to see how reception to this goes/
> 
> Titles taken from Cant Sleep by K Flay


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